


Let Me Love You

by Bennie133



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: I did have John follow history and die?, M/M, modern setting though, not really major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8427910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennie133/pseuds/Bennie133
Summary: “Baby,” Thomas cooed softly, the pet name stumbling from his mouth, “Don't do this, don't give up on yourself.” He reiterated, “Alexander, sunshine, let me love you.” He asked again, pulling the shorter man into another kiss, fingers carding cautiously through the tangled hair, trying to convey his feelings with his actions, since his spoken words seemed to betray him so often.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well, as you can most likely tell, yes, it's a fic based on a song, but it's the first one I've ever done and I really enjoyed this. It gave me a short break from the series I'm working on. I hope you all like it!

The political world was an endless abyss, all you would ever see peering in was light spiraling chaotically into black, where most good things could become corrupt and seem impossible to save, a chance to be irredeemable in most peoples eyes, even though things could (rarely) change for the better. Yet for those who worked with politics, with good intentions, could see it as a beautiful thing, though it was constantly burning from their point of view due to all of the bad apples. You could make dreams real depending on what you did, what you struggled and worked hard for. Other times, it was like waiting for a miracle in a room with smoke and mirrors, unsure what one thing really was.

 

Thomas Jefferson reflected upon these thoughts, twisting his favorite cane in his hands as he sat on his favorite wheel chair in his office, relaxing into the soft cushions that were embroidered with small delicate designs, the wood having a French accent to it. He tipped his head back with a small sigh. He had officially caught up on all of his work of as the Secretary of State, though he had a few personal projects he had been hoping to work on. He glanced at his computer, staring at the email he had yet to respond to, unsure at the moment if he even wanted to deal with responding to it yet, knowing it's sender. It was from, of course, Alexander Hamilton, and based off of words count, the man had written close to ten thousand words. In one email! Honestly, he thought the man was long winded, but his writings were worse.

 

With a small groan, he finally managed to motivate himself to scoot closer to the computer, staring at the blank reply area that he had opened, though the words hadn't come to him yet. He had time to be analytical, but reading Hamilton's email, he had to be careful and to make sure that he followed every loop and turn. He was sure the Secretary of Treasury had ADHD, because he would follow every rabbit trail before making a giant trip back to his original statement, and while it did tie in nicely, for the most part, sometimes it was hard to keep it all straight. It was just like in person, yet for some reason hearing him say the words made it much easier for Thomas to have witty comebacks. Hamilton had a fire in his eyes, an unquenchable thirst for a good debate and proving himself right. He was just like the political abyss. Beautiful, yet always burning. The Virginian thought about everything, how Hamilton did have heart, how he meant exactly what he said without a doubt. Yes, he knew he did truly care for his country, though the Southerner had his doubts about how it was shown, the Caribbean was determined to do what he thought was best for his country. Compared to most, that was one of those rare miracles in the smoke room with mirrors.

 

Thomas rubbed at his temples with his fingers, occasionally carding his fingers somewhat through the curly hair in the front with its tight curls, tugging a little and feeling them spring back into place. His feet tapped lightly on the ground, and he began to fidget with a pen in his hand as he stared at this computer screen in his office. He was relieved from having to reply when the short man in question barged into his room without knocking, a fuming expression on his face. “Ah, Alexander, how nice to see you.” He drawled out slowly, purposefully using the younger mans first name. He laced his voice with sarcasm, though he was indeed a bit happier to see him rather than crack out a long reply, attempting to match him somewhat in length, that way even with the brevity of his words he could feel somewhat accomplished as he tried to bring down Hamilton's ideas, without bringing the man down himself.

 

Alexander bristled against the few words that had poured from Jefferson's mouth, coming up to his desk and slamming his hands on it, rattling the computer a little bit. “I cannot fucking believe you, Jefferson, are you daft?” He demanded to know, eyes burning bright as he stared intensely at the Virginian, “While I realize you aren't always the sharpest crayon in the box, I was hoping you'd be smart enough to realize how badly we need that plan!” He ranted angrily, chest getting a bit puffy as he flexed his curled up fingers, ready to punch or to relax, whichever came first, though the first more likely.

 

With a small sigh, Thomas rubbed the bridge of his nose. “While I realize you're known around the office for being nonstop,” He began, twirling the cane leaning against his seat, the bottom tip between his feet, “You cannot write me an email regarding it, and expect me to magically produce just as long as an answer within half an hours notice, Hamilton.” He pointed out, frowning a bit as he leaned back into his chair. “Now, is there something else I could possibly do for you?” He questioned lazily, hoping to give a bored tone, though he was feeling a bit excited at being able to talk to Hamilton, knowing the man would jump in and try to hash things out, make it square.

 

There was a tight grip on Thomas' desk as Alexander let out a frustrated groan. “Have you at least read it in it's entirety yet, Jefferson?” He asked with a huff, finally plopping down onto a little chair on the opposite side of Jefferson's desk. Honestly, if anyone were to walk in, they would not be surprised. Alexander always had something to argue about with Jefferson, always had some reason to come and annoy him, to sit in his office, even if sometimes he just sat there silently fuming at the man who would insist now and then that he simply had to get some of this paper work done.

 

The Virginian observed the Caribbean a moment, before giving a small nod to acknowledge him. “Yes, I have read it. Good Lord, could you possibly have written anymore?” He asked, brow raised. When Hamilton went to open his mouth, he waved his hand. “Shush, that was more rhetorical than anything, I know how much of a pest you can be with you writings.” He mused with an eye roll, tapping his cane lightly, a nervous habit he never could get rid of.

 

Alexander tapped his foot on the ground, locking his eyes onto Jefferson's, mouth twitching into a frown, brows furrowed together as he watched the other man behind his desk. After a moment of silence, he cracked. “Well? What's your response?” He demanded, crossing one of his legs over, hands messing with the hem of his ankle to straighten it, then push some of his loose hair back, trying to get it out of his face.

 

Thomas leaned back in his seat, glancing at the computer screen, skimming over the words where Hamilton's rant had began, before lazily dragging his eyes back to Alexander, taking his time, calming the anxiety that was trying to settle in him stomach. “Quite frankly, that wasn't one of your best works.” He said with a smirk slowly falling onto his face, eyes twinkling with amusement, watching as his foes face slowly twisted into annoyance, hands tightening into fists. Three, two, one...

 

“What do you mean that wasn't one of my best works?!” Alexander yelled in frustration, running a hand over his face, glaring at Jefferson. “You stupid little rich boy!” He shouted, “Honestly, what would you know, because obviously you don't understand any of the material I covered, head up your ass in your own little world, never understanding what most people are going through!” He started, roughly yanking his sleeves up so they would be out of the way as he told off his enemy.

 

With a thoroughly amused look, Thomas crossed a leg and simply listen as the man went on and on about this and that, going back to some points he had made in his email, also bringing up a few other new points. This is what the Virginian loved, when the man got so riled all he had to do was say one thing, and wait until Hamilton finally exhausted his points and shut up so he wouldn't keep saying the same thing over and over, as he was prone to do. After the shorter mans speech dwindled down after twenty minutes, Thomas simply looked at his wristwatch, then twirled his cane as he smirked. “Are you done yet with your tantrum?” He questioned smugly.

 

In response, Alexander simply raised a hand, giving Thomas the bird. “Fuck you.” He muttered angrily, licking his lips to moisten them back up after talking. He ran his fingers through his hair, fed up with it, finally throwing it into a ponytail, done with everything.

 

Thomas watched with interest, shifting in his chair, eyes traveling over Hamilton. His eyes were darker than normal, he must have been here in his office for a few days. Despite that, the man was still extremely attractive, his eyes still like gems. Muttering under his breath Thomas said, “If that's really what you want.” He wasn't expecting for Hamilton to have heard him.

 

The Caribbean's head snapped up in shock, eyes wide. “Excuse me?” He squeaked out, wondering if perhaps he had simply misheard. He was exhausted he told himself, surely he had misunderstood what the other man muttered, unable to hear him accurately. Perhaps there was a missed retort that would make more sense.

 

The Virginian's face fell frozen, his mouth slightly drooped open, his ears and his nose turning a dark red, contrasting against the rest of his dark skin. After a moment he cleared his throat. He could try to say Hamilton misheard him, or say he didn't mean it like that. However;... He _could_ repeat it, see what happens. “I said,” He fumbled at first, fidgeting in his seat, “If that's what you really want.” He drawled out, his speech sounding more confident than he felt, though that wasn't hard. He could feel the heat in his ears, he most likely stuttered through that, too worried to tell one way or another. When Hamilton continued to stare wide eyed, Thomas wanted to smack himself in the face, while cowering under his desk. Perhaps he should rush home, call in sick the next few days, use the migraine excuse to never ever show his face again, though Jemmy would most likely kick him out of his own house again after a few days.

 

Finally, after what felt like a never ending eternity, Alexander stood up. He turned to leave, then faced back to Jefferson, mouth moving, but for once, no words coming out. He was choking over many different thoughts and words that wanted to stumble out, but finally he settled for silence, staring at Jefferson. He made his way back into the chair, sitting down, elbows on his knees, hands holding his face as he looked at Jefferson. “Do you want to fuck me?” He finally managed to push past his heavy lips.

 

Thomas, feeling stunned by Hamilton's reaction, offered a slow nod of his head, licking his lips. “The thought has crossed my mind more than once.” He admitted quietly, daring to continue to look upon the other man, his face still feeling so hot. It was true, he's wanted this before, more than just that, though he didn't know if this was the time to mention that. “I know you and I have had some of the darkest days together, at each others throat, and perhaps this isn't something we should do.” He began, standing up, pushing heavily on his cane, feeling as if it was the only thing holding him steady. “But as I've heard before, Heaven may be a heartbreak away.” He said, now standing in front of the Caribbean.

 

Alexander contemplated his words, before standing up now himself. He looked up at Jefferson, and boy did he hate this height difference, wishing he could be more face to face. He felt small in the moment, hesitant. It sounded like Jefferson wanted more than a hot fuck, and he didn't know if he could handle that. He always pushed people away. Still, you would have to be an idiot to not see how attractive Jefferson really was. “Then why don't you show me how good you are?” He challenged, stepping into Thomas' space now, pushing away the cane. “If that's what you really want.” He murmured, parroting back the mans own words from earlier.

 

\----

 

Time seemed to move in a flurry of moments, some drawn out, other quick and fast, unexpected to last. For several months the Secretaries played a game, back and forth. There would be moments of heat, hands scraping each others flesh, the men clinging to one another in desperate moments, breath escaping them that they could never take back. Then the afterwards would come. Thomas would try to convince Alexander to just lay down, stay a moment. More often than not, Alexander would flee the scene when they were done, stumble out of the building, no matter what time it was. It was rare when the Virginian was able to keep his guest seated, make him something to eat at least.

 

Thomas would consider if he was doing something wrong, wonder why Alexander would run out as if he had been frightened, as if something bad had occurred. He knew the younger man was not in a relationship, that ship had sailed long ago. It was frustrating, wanting someone so badly, only to have them for a fleeting moment and then to lose them as they slipped out of your fingers. Many people called Alexander a storm, but Thomas felt otherwise. He was like a sea. He would lure you in with his beautiful looks, then, once he had you in his grasp, he would pull you down under to be with him. And just like water, he would slip between your fingers, never lingering around, simply leaving behind hints of himself to show he had been there. Damn those bruises and teeth marks that were left on Thomas' skin, only to disappear after a bit, to be replenished when he was able to convince the Caribbean to stay with him again. It was decided, Thomas was going to confront Alexander this time before they did anything, to make him use those words he loved to spew at any other time than when he was with the Virginian.

 

It didn't take too long before their next encounter, Alexander coming to Thomas' door, knocking. He hadn't bothered to call, the older gentleman had all but told him earlier that he would be home tonight. That was all the invitation Alexander needed to come get laid with the man. When the door opened, he glanced up at Thomas, “You're free, right?” He asked, though they both knew the answer already.

 

With a small nod, Thomas drew the door open all the way, silently letting Alexander in to his home. When he closed and locked the door, he had barely turned around when the younger male was pressed up against him, kissing and nipping at his neck, hands slipping in underneath the jacket that hadn't been taken off yet from work earlier, sliding it off of strong shoulders. He almost went along with it, before solidifying his resolve from earlier. “Wait, Alexander.” He said, gently pushing the man away, only to have another onslaught of kisses and hearing a mumbled no. He didn't budge though, taking Alexander's face in his hand, tipping the mans chin up. “We need to talk.” He murmured with a strong resolution.

 

With a grumble, the shorter man looked up at him, arms crossing with a slight scowl of annoyance on his face. “What do we have to talk about?” He urged, clearly not wanting to do this, a dreadful feeling sneaking into his stomach. “It is what it is.” He declared without hesitation.

 

Thomas frowned, “See, that's where I believe you're wrong.” He ignored the scoff, before taking Alexander's wrist, tugging the man across the room, leading him into his bedroom. They could talk on the couch, but he wondered if he attempted that, if the younger man would flee. The bedroom was as close to neutral as it felt like it could be. He forced Alexander to sit on the edge of the bed, and he stood in between his legs, his fingers brushing a few stray hairs behind Alexander's ear. “I don't want to let you go.” He disclosed, “And I don't want you to let me down and then feel guilty, but I know you've been avoiding anything like this. I want to know why. Why you won't let me have something with you.”

 

Alexander's eyes screwed shut, and he let his face fall into Thomas' chest, his chest heaving a bit. He did know this talk would come eventually, but he had been hoping to keep pushing it away, to prevent it somehow by leaving. “Thomas.” He said quietly, “I can't do this.” Alexander hesitated, but the other man kept quiet, listening. So they were doing this. “When I was in the army, there was a man by the name of John Laurens. I know you probably knew who he was.” When he felt the movement from Thomas, he assumed it was a nod of affirmation. He looked up at him, “He was killed in the war, after it had ended, actually.” He said, eyes getting moist. “I've never loved anyone as strongly as I loved him, and since then, since that day, I kept myself guarded and away from anyone I thought I could or would care about.” He bit back a gasp, keeping his breathing as even as he could. “And you, you stupid fucker, wormed you way into my life, gave me something to hang on. At first I hated you, and then it became fun. And then we started this...” He trailed off, shaking slightly.

 

Thomas slowly processed the words while comforting Alex as much as he could in this instance, rubbing his back, letting the man fall apart in his arms, letting him cling as he finally began to cry. This poor man. “I'm sorry.” He whispered, kissing the top of his head. “My wife passed away before we ever met, but I understand. She was the love of my life.” He explained with a sad smile. “We've been through a hell of a ride, Alexander,” Thomas spoke quietly, “driving a the edge of a knife into each other at first.” He knelt down as he felt the man start to calm down some. “You're scared. But I will never let you down, if you would give me the chance.” He promised softly, taking one of Alexander's hand in his own.

 

The Caribbean shook his head, tears silently falling down his face, biting his lower lip. “Everyone leaves at some point.” He whispered, unable to be loud as he normally could be. “My father left, my mother died after getting the illness I had, my cousin offed himself.” He started, taking a shaky breath, “John died on me, James, my brother, left me. Madison left, as did Eliza eventually.” He told the man in front of him. “Everyone leaves. I'm cursed. You shouldn't waste your time on me.” He insisted, hand on Thomas' shoulder. “You'll leave, too. Everyone has always left.” He croaked out quietly.

 

Thomas stood back up, cupping Alexander's face, kissing him slowly, unlike the hurried kisses the younger man always demanded. “Don't you give up,” he pushed Alexander back onto the bed carefully, laying down on top of him, kissing him deeply, thumbs stroking away the wet traces of the tears. “I won't give up on you.” He affirmed. “Let me love you, my Alexander.”

 

Said man whimpered out loud, hands pushing Thomas away gently, those his fists were clenched around his shirt, preventing the older man from leaving, his thoughts and feeling so conflicted at the southerner. “Thomas, please,” He pleased, “I'm so bad for everyone, the only good thing is my writings, and even those are brushed aside.” He complained, “I'm not good for you, I'm not.”

 

“Baby,” Thomas cooed softly, the pet name stumbling from his mouth, “Don't do this, don't give up on yourself.” He reiterated, “Alexander, sunshine, let me love you.” He asked again, pulling the shorter man into another kiss, fingers carding cautiously through the tangled hair, trying to convey his feelings with his actions, since his spoken words seemed to betray him so often.

 

Alexander teared up anew, clutching Thomas close, “I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I'm so selfish right now. I want you, Thomas, I do.” He breathed shakily, kissing the man above him, rolling his hips up, “Don't deserve this.” He pressed, though he gave away to the gentle caressing, leaning into the other mans touch hungrily.

 

The Virginian shook his head, “No sex, not tonight.” He murmured, and when Alexander let out a needy whine, he hushed him with a kiss. “Alexander, hush, sweet boy.” He hummed, pulling away. “Stay right there.” He crossed the room to his door, closing it, and flicking off the light, glad the curtain was open so he could see his way back to his bed; it was dusk already. He helped Alexander pull off his shoes, getting the man down to his boxers and his t-shirt that were under his suit. He kissed the younger man as Alexander attempted to convince him to do something with him, though he did not relent. He stripped down himself into his own boxers and shirt, before pulling Alexander up to the head board with him, holding him close and tucking them both in under the covers. “Sleep, you're exhausted. Once you feel better, and you're not so emotionally flustered, we can sleep together.” He promised.

 

“You're trying to get me to sleep with you now.” Alexander pointed out with a whine, hands snaking under Thomas' shirt. The Virginian sighed and pulled his arms out, making the Caribbean huff his annoyance. “Thomas, come on. You're not taking advantage of me.” He pressed, trying to touch the man.

 

With a small shake of his head, Thomas kissed the top of Alexander's head, pulling the shorter man flush against him. “I'd like to, once you're in the right mind.” He explained. “Just breath, and let me love you like this.” He murmured. When Alexander stopped trying to worm into Thomas' space with sexual intentions, the older man smiled a bit. “There we go.” He murmured, petting Alexander's hair. He wasn't surprised that it didn't take the man very long to fall asleep beside him. He gave a small squeeze, before letting his eyes fall shut.

 

\----

 

In the morning, Thomas awoke, trying to blink the sleepiness away. He glanced over at his clock, with it reading at four thirty in the morning. Usually, he would get up and go for a jog, but today, he was fine with staying in bed, laying next to Alexander, who was still there. When he felt the other man turn towards him, he glanced over, before furrowing his brows. “You're awake?” He asked, voice deep from having just woken up.

 

Alexander shuddered a little at the deep tones, before nodding, “Insomnia.” He stated, before gently sliding one leg over Thomas', gently rubbing himself against the man, “Please. I've been needy since I've been up.” He whispered, voice laced with obvious want. “Please, Thomas, I told you I'm fine, please fuck me.” He mouthed along the mans neck, a hand sliding under the Virginian's shirt, stroking at his lower stomach just above the waistband of his boxers.

 

Thomas bit back a slight groan, his own desire easily stirred up. “Okay,” He acquiesced, “Come here, sweet boy.” He murmured, pulling Alexander up and onto his lap. “I'm not gonna just fuck you though.” He told the man on him, helping him pull of his shirt, then shimmy out of his boxers. “I'm gonna make love to you, take it nice and slow.”

 

Alexander let out a whine, goosebumps on his arms now from being naked after being in the warm blanket. He reached for the lube in the drawer from Thomas' bedside dresser, “Please fuck me, please.” He pleaded. “Want you to make it rough, want to hurt good.” He answered, holding onto the item in his hand as Thomas shifted beneath of him, slowly getting undressed to be in the same state as Alexander.

 

Thomas pulled Alexander down, taking the lube out of his hand, kissing him gently, “No.” He whispered, kissing at the shorter mans neck. “Never gonna let you go, sweetheart.” When Alexander pawed at him, hips rolling again, Thomas chuckled a little. “Just let me love you.” He insisted, taking the lube and spreading it out on his fingers. He rubbed them together to make it warmer, then he reached behind Alexander, gently rubbing at his ass, before gently slipping a finger in, taking his time.

 

Squirming, Alexander felt breathless as he rocked onto Thomas' finger, though said man kept a hand on his hip to stop him from going fast like he wanted. “Thomas, please.” He begged, “Just fuck me now.” He gasped when the man began to tap on his prostate, making him squirm and moan in Thomas' lap, his face flushed, the pinkish tones creeping along his cheeks and his nose.

 

The Virginian smirked, “Hush, Alexander. Maybe if you're good.” He mused, teasing. “Even if you were good for me though, baby boy, I'd still want to go slow. Make you fall apart on my fingers, like putty.” He told him, smiling tiredly as the man on top of him moaned against his neck. Slowly he added another finger, taking his sweet time to spread his little immigrant out, make him that much more needy and desperate. Once he felt like Alexander was ready, he pulled his hand back, getting a whine from the short man. “Shh, hold on.” He crooned, taking precautions and making sure his member was covered generously with the lube, before setting that down on top of the dresser.

 

Alexander went along when Thomas helped him lift up a bit, slowly sliding down onto him, biting his lower lip as a groan was stuck in his throat, reveling in the sensation of being filled. When he bottomed out, he sat there a moment, looking at Thomas who was just smiling at him, and he felt his face flush more than it had been from the care Thomas had been giving him, the the mans large hands resting on his hips. “I could just ride you.” He suggested, rocking his hips a little for emphasis. “Make it feel good, be fast.”

 

Thomas shook his head, thumbs gently stroking back and forth, “No, I've got you.” He said, leaning up, wrapping his arms around Alexander, rolling them carefully so he stayed in, now on top of him. “I'm going to take my time with you.” He assured him, words drawling out quietly and slow, just like he planned to be with the man beneath of him. Thomas lowered his head, his lips meeting with Alexander's, making sure to drag out the kiss, his tongue snaking in, slowly sweeping across his partner's mouth, making it as sensual as he could as he began to slowly rock his hips, pulling back until just the tip was in, then pushing back in, He positioned one hand supporting himself, the other wrapping around Alexander's waist so he could keep control of their tempo as they moved together.

 

Alexander's head tipped back with a quiet moan, his arms wrapping around Thomas' neck, pulling the man as close as he could, his legs coming up and resting against the older mans hips. “Thomas, please, want you more.” He pleaded, the slow pace as torturous as it felt good. His head was swarming with thoughts. No one should treat him so well and nice, he didn't deserve this, Thomas was going to get hurt, and he himself would get hurt.

 

Thomas wrapped the arm the was holding Alex's waist under the leg to his side, helping to keep it up as he rolled his hips, kissing up and down his mans collar bones and neck, showering him with affection. “Shh, no, no,” he murmured, resting his forehead against Alexander's, “Just let me love you, Alex, let me give this to you, sweet boy.” He cooed, kissing him again, letting the warmth and their proximity sink in. He took a shaky breath. “Do you know how good you feel, Alexander?” He asked the man, nipping lightly at his neck, “Not just like this. You feel good to be around, you're got so much life, you're so alive. So alive, Alexander. I won't ever leave you, if you stay with me.” He insisted, wanting Alexander to know he meant it, couldn't ever not mean it.

 

With a whimper, Alexander clung to the man, tears threatening to fall once more. “Thomas.” He moaned, the slow drag burning him slowly from the inside, the mans words going to his head, “Please don't leave.” He finally pleaded. “I'll stay if you mean it.” He felt the tears fall down his face, but his lover kissed away the tears, drowning him in affection and with a slow fire from the inside.

 

Thomas lazily thrust into Alexander, his hand moving to card through his fingers. “Such a sweet boy, such a pretty little thing.” He murmured lovingly, nuzzling into his neck. “I won't leave. I promise.” He breathed, burying his face in Alexander's neck, making himself keep the slow pace, despite wanting to give Alex just what the man was asking for.

 

Alexander lost himself in the sensations. He smelled the strong scent that was Thomas all over, felt his hair tickling his face, felt him holding onto him so firmly, but gentle at the same time. It felt like forever that they laid there together, intertwined. The fire in his stomach kept slowly growing stronger and stronger, until finally he was pushed to the edge, holding on as tight as he could to Thomas, shaking him as he felt himself climax, moaning when he felt Thomas come within himself. “Thomas,” He murmured, finding the mans lips and smashing them together, though he let the other man keep it slow like he wanted.

 

With a slight roll to the side, Thomas pulled out, before wiping both himself and Alexander off with the sheet, clumsily cleaning them up. Once he was finished with that, he pushed the sheet and the comforter down and simply snuggled up to Alexander, the poor thing shaking a bit, wiping off the remains of the tears that were shed. “You were perfect, baby.” He told him, petting the mans hair. “You were so good for me, Alexander, such a sweet thing.” He continued to tiredly ramble, planting a few kisses on his shoulders and neck. He kissed him once more, smiling at him. “Did that feel good, baby?” He asked, wanting to make sure the other man felt good.

 

Alexander nodded, basking in the heat of Thomas, burying his face into his chest, relaxing into his arms. “Do you mean it, Thomas?” He managed to ask after a few moments of silence.

 

Thomas kissed the top of his head, “Every word, Alexander.”

 


End file.
